Page 91 of My Brother's Best Friends

“This is incredible,” Janet says as we pull out onto the highway. “I’ve never done something so impulsive in my life.”

“Technically, it’s not that impulsive. Quitting your job and jumping in headfirst like I did—that would’ve been impulsive,” I say with a laugh.

“You’re brave, I’ll give you that.”

“I have faith in what’s next. It’s all going to work out,” I promise her.

“I don’t even care,” she sings, “this is going to be an amazing adventure, and you’re absolutely right, I hated being in that office. Luckily, my manager approved my remote work request. We’re doing a six-month trial run, and he said he’ll extend if it works out on my end. Besides, if the winery doesn’t pan out, we can always move back to the city.”

“Or start a petting zoo. We’ve got plenty of land.”

“Oh, yeah. The fluffiest alpacas. Bunnies. Cows we could rescue from slaughterhouses. Goats. Horses. So many horses.”

“And all the cats, Janet. Let’s not forget about the cats,” I chuckle softly.

She gives me a wry smile. “We’ll be okay, Mac.”

Balancing the wheel with my knee, I lean over to tug her into a quick side-hug.

“Watch the road!” she shrieks, putting her hands up in a brief panic.

I laugh and return to my driving, feeling like I’ve just won the lottery.

It takes five hours to drive out to my family’s land. We pass a few small towns on our way up, with adorable, dainty-looking storefronts and a main street that looks like it’s been plucked right out of a classic holiday movie. There’s no snow in these parts, but it didn’t stop any Californian from celebrating the winter holidays.

Tinsel and Christmas décor are everywhere, but my favorite part is always the lights strung above the street.

“This is adorable,” I murmur, letting my gaze wander as we roll through.

“Quaint and warm… Gosh, I can almost smell the apple spice, I swear.”

Farther ahead, a diner and a laundromat are sandwiched between two different coffee shops. On the opposite side of the street, there’s a bakery and a movie theater with one single film playing.

“We have to go see that,” Janet exclaims.

“What? Night Runners?” I ask, reading the marquee. “I’ve never heard of it.”

“Maybe not that one,” she relents, “but at some point, we definitely have to go see a show there.”

“It’s probably really busy on Friday nights,” I assume, driving past.

Janet chuckles dryly. “How busy is a small town theater like this going to get? Come on, it’s part of the big-city-girls-moving-into-a-small-town experience.”

“We’ll indulge in it all!”

“Look, there’s a library!” Janet exclaims. “It looks so… small.”

“It’s like you’ve never seen a small town before.”

Janet gives me a long, pensive look. I can feel her eyes drilling holes into the side of my face. “Do you remember that time we went out to the park?” she asks. “Back in the city, that is.”

“I do.”

“Do you remember the spider?”

“It was a tiny little thing,” I groan, still remembering her shrieks when the spider crawled up her jeans. “Come on…”

“I’m a city animal, Mac. Everything outside the city is weird and new to me. Imagine the spiders we’ll find in wine country.”

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